Page 36 of Escaping Pirates
“Yes, we need to be at port for a few days. About time too. We’ve been at sea for ages.”
My heart leapt, but I kept my gaze fixed on the woodenfloor planks. A few days? Harlan and I would undoubtedly find a way to escape within that time frame, or at least alert someone to our situation.
Harlan was brought back soon after, then sat with Sugar and Blossom while I did the laundry. I barely noticed my work while listening to the girls as they tried to entertain Harlan.
“And at that point I knew,” Blossom said to conclude a story she’d been telling. “That calvary is not dead!”
I bit my lip and dared not look at Harlan for fear of bursting out laughing.
“I quite agree,” Harlan said solemnly. “Calvary does best when it’s alive.”
“Time for my foot massage!” Sugar trilled after the meal, stripping off her stockings and offering her feet to Harlan, wiggling her toes in the air.
“My favorite part,” Harlan said, then looked over Sugar’s shoulder to catch my eye. I smiled in his direction, then hastily stopped when I saw Blossom’s beady eyes flicking back and forth between me and Harlan. There was a shrewdness in her gaze that made me want to become a third of my actual size. I wrung out one of the dresses extra hard. Did she suspect?
“Harlan,” Blossom said, her voice lower and more silky than usual. “Would you please bring me one of those sweet rolls from the cook?”
“But he just got back! And my feet—” Sugar began.
“He’ll come right back,” Blossom said. “I just need to check something.”
Harlan glanced at me. I wished he hadn’t. We had been careless. If our every interaction was going to be this heavily scrutinized, we couldn’t risk engaging with each other at all.I stared at the wash water and counted Harlan’s footsteps as he crossed the room and left.
“Why did you do that?” Sugar whined at her sister.
“Because I think Elena is starting to have feelings for our man.” Blossom’s tone became cold. “I don’t think she should be near him anymore. Maybe we should get Daddy to move Harlan to another cell.”
“No,” I said. The word forced itself from my mouth, unbidden. The thought of losing Harlan’s company at night was too painful to bear.
“Why not? Because you’re in love with him?” Blossom demanded instantly.
My mouth went dry. Why couldn’t I be sharp-witted and think on my feet better? I could solve simple riddles, but outwitting pirates when my life might depend on it was a whole different level. “No, it isn’t that. It’s just…” I scrambled for a reason. “Another cell would be much dirtier, and he would get sick again. If”—my throat constricted—”if you’re worried about me and Harlan having anything between us, you could move him up with the crew.”
It would be far easier for Harlan to escape if he wasn’t locked up. Even if I wasn’t able to, Harlan could get away. He could tell someone where I was. He was a sailor and he was from Berkway; he had to have friends who could band together or alert the authorities.
Blossom and Sugar debated in low voices while I clutched the side of the bucket of water. Even if she occasionally used the wrong words in conversation, Blossom wasn’t stupid.
From across the room, I occasionally caught phrases like “Daddy wouldn’t like,” and “Uncle Tyrone,” and I broke out into an active sweat. Were they planning to hand me over toTyrone? Had they grown tired of me, just as Harsh had predicted they would? The constriction in my throat expanded to consume my chest so that breathing became difficult.
“Clean out the brazier,” Sugar ordered me suddenly. She and her sister had stopped their whispered conversation and were watching me closely.
“Of course,” I said, immediately dropping to scoop the cold ashes out of the empty brazier and place them into a pail. Harlan came back, but I didn’t even turn to look at him or acknowledge his presence, and he didn’t say a word to me. I worked as efficiently as I could, determined to prove my worth, so I was nearly done by the time Harlan finished Sugar’s foot massage.
“I can do yours next,” he offered to Blossom.
“I need my brooch,” she said, walking over to where I was working. As she reached for the brooch on a nearby table, she kicked the pail of ash and cinders, causing it to spill all over me, the rugs, the floor, and the sofa. “Watch where you’re putting things! Clean this up immediately! I ought to call you Cinderella!”
Harlan stood up, about to protest, but I shook my head at him. “My mistake, my mistake,” I apologized. “I’ll clean it up now.”
“See that you do. I’m going up to deck with Harlan and Sugar. By the time we get back, it better be inoculate!”
I couldn’t even find the energy to be amused by her malapropism. Cleaning the rugs would require thorough beatings and washings, the sofa would require even more time, and both Sugar and Blossom had walked through the spilled ashes and trailed footprints of soot all through their quarters. It would take at least a full day to clean it properly. A hard lump swelled in my throat, and heat built behind my eyes. Even though I felt Harlan staring at me, I slowly beganthe arduous process of cleaning up the smeared ashes. The door thudded closed as they left, and I let out a shaky sob.
I hated cleaning. I hated Sugar and Blossom. But most of all, I hated how powerless I was.
With each brushstroke, I imagined acts of revenge, each more glorious than the last. I could hide dead fish in their mattresses or fling all of their clothing overboard, tied in a bundle and attached to an anchor. With each new revenge idea, my tears decreased. I could powder some brine-glass nettle and sprinkle it in their underpants so that they itched like mad for hours. Or better yet, I could mix it into their cosmetics so their faces broke out in hives.
Imagining such vengeance had a far more therapeutic effect than any of the lectures on patience and virtue I’d been given by my governess growing up. Eventually, the plans for revenge morphed back into plans for escape once again. We had to be close, and that meant releasing the messages in bottles at long last.
